Annoying
by orator
Summary: Even after years, she still manages to annoy him.


**AN: Based on a prompt from tumblr-"**Ohh great! Prompt: YD and R make up passionately right after got into big fight(bad words and little slaps) I love your asshole YD carry on;)"

**So no slaps or anything…I don't even know if this worked—but here you go! : D**

* * *

Sometimes Young Do didn't understand Rachel's logic.

What was the point of getting ready in her mother's home, when she could have gotten ready with him?

Or even Zeus! _Where the event was taking place_.

She always ran to her pink closet when she was worried about something.

It was really _annoying_.

Young Do had woken up…_late_—and she'd been slipping on her clothes.

She'd flown out the door before he could form a coherent thought.

He'd eventually gotten ready leisurely, at his own pace. But no matter how slow he went, she would. Always. Take. Longer.

Finally…she'd called him, her voice flat and tight, "Can you bring my shoes? I forgot them."

So he'd had to search for the "sparkly pewter Jimmy Choos" in her expansive shoe closet. He had no idea where to begin. She had about 7 that fit that description.

She'd had to send him a picture at the end.

He didn't complain, although he was itching to shout at her for wasting his time and energy…he wouldn't do it on the phone.

He would wait till he saw her.

Aggravation was making his forehead throb—she was having him drive around in circles…_for no good reason._

By the time he got to her mother's place, he'd worked himself up into a thoroughly bad mood.

And it didn't help that the maids were _still_ frightened of him.

He was practically a dolphin—Rachel was much scarier. A small, scary shark. Prone to screaming outbursts.

Brat.

He thumped loudly on the stairs, hoping she would know that he'd arrived. And that he wasn't happy.

He didn't bother knocking on her door, and burst in without any announcement.

Rachel was sitting at her dressing table, hair and makeup done…

Only wearing a short, silk robe and her underwear.

She was also immersed in her phone.

There were clothes and makeup strewn about _everywhere_.

He didn't miss the bag in the corner, overflowing with frilly underwear.

Young Do felt his headache increase tenfold, as he asked, in a barely suppressed voice, trying not to yell, "You're _still_ not ready yet?!"

Finally, she looked over at him; her mouth turned downwards, her eyelashes fluttering, "No. I was waiting for my shoes."

"Rachel…" His voice was a near shout—he had to lower his volume, "Rachel…you could have still put your dress on."

"How could I? No one is _here_ to help me!" She snapped.

"There are plenty of people to help you at home!" His volume went up again. His forehead was pulsing now.

Her mouth quivered, "I thought Omma would be here. Or Se Ra! But they aren't coming! Omma yelled at me and told me I was acting like a baby!"

Young Do agreed with her Omma.

But he didn't say anything, other than, "Rachel, Se Ra is pregnant! She can't come whenever you call her."

Her mouth twisted into a pout, "I know that. I. Know. Johnny yelled at me for 10 minutes about that. Even though I said sorry. He said I need to be mature now. I am mature. _He's_ the one that needs to be mature."

Young Do bit his tongue.

Rachel turned her attention back to her phone.

He walked over to her bed, and set the shoes down.

From the hunch of her shoulders he could tell she was trying not to succumb to tears.

If he wasn't so aggravated, he might have felt bad—actually, no, she did this to herself. He didn't feel bad.

She used to cry a lot when they were young. Now she acted out in_these_ crazy ways.

He wasn't sure which he preferred: the never ending floodgates, or_this—_the never-ending pity parties.

She was still fiddling with her phone, and then turned to him, voice wobbly, and said, "I always try to be mature. But they all yell at me like I'm a child. You do, too."

"Because you do childish things." It slipped out. He hadn't meant for it to, but it had…and he was too angry to really care.

The look she shot him—he wanted to simultaneously yell at her more, he also wanted to laugh, _and_ gather her in his arms and kiss her till she…

"Fine. I'm a child. And you're the most responsible person ever? You probably came here on your _stupid_ bike!"

He hadn't.

"And Johnny? He's the poster boy for responsibility, right?! That's why he got his girlfriend pregnant! Se Ra, too! A true _hallmark_ of responsibility."

Young Do rolled his eyes.

"And Omma—look at the men she—" Abruptly Rachel stopped.

Young Do had been patiently listening, his hands on his hips. To keep from throttling her.

He knew she always actively stopped herself from complaining about her parents.

He admired that quality. It showed loyalty.

Rachel swallowed and then petulantly said, "You're all stupid. And I hate you. Because you're all stupid. I'm smarter than all of you combined. All of you. Dumb and stupid. You all think I'm stupid, but I'm not. _You are_."

With that she turned around, and fixed her hair.

He watched her in the mirror.

She looked over her shoulder and said, "Can you bring me my—actually, _never mind_. I don't _need_ your help. I can do it all by_myself_."

Young Do looked around to see the dress, a flouncy, peach creation that he'd helped her pick out a few weeks ago.

* * *

Help would be used loosely. He'd gotten so bothered watching her dress and undress, that he'd yanked her out of the dressing room, saying "We'll take them all!" over his shoulder.

They'd ended up having silent, frantic sex in the car.

Thank god there was a partition and tinted windows. And a driver.

They'd had to bite down on each other's mouths and tongues to keep their…sounds…muffled.

* * *

"You're all useless and I don't need any of you." Rachel was still muttering under her breath.

Young Do rolled his eyes again, and laid down on her bed.

She picked up the dress and examined it. She loved it, he knew, but she tried to hide her reaction. She'd almost cracked a smile.

Rachel rarely smiled anyways, but still…

She then looked at him, annoyed, and said, "_Don't_ look! While I change, don't look!"

He'd seen her _completely_ naked, yet she _still_ liked to play this game.

And so he indulged her, set on trying to irritate her as much as possible, "Why not? I've seen you in way less."

She turned her nose up and said, "It's called propriety and modesty and inhibitions."

They'd watched Pride and Prejudice last night. Clearly, it was still on her mind.

"Really?" Young Do quirked his eyebrow, "Propriety? Modesty? Inhibitions? Those weren't on your mind last night."

She turned red and scoffed, "I don't know what you're _talking_about."

Was she crazy? She was. She actually was crazy.

"Really?" He said again, "Because from what I remember, after Darcy confessed and got rejected, you put your hand on my thigh, stroked it, and said _'You're tall like Darcy_.' And then you climbed into my lap. I'm pretty sure you tried to call me Darcy too."

He ignored her reaction—she was steadily mouthing curses, but then haughtily said, "You _must_ have been dreaming."

Except she'd kept him up for the majority of the night. So he wouldn't have been able to dream, even if he tried.

"Hmmm. Maybe I did dream it…but, you know, it was the oddest thing—I woke up with lipstick marks all over my body. My face. My neck. My stomach. My—"

"Shhh! I'm trying to concentrate!"

Concentrate on what?

She was red as a tomato, and taking her dress out of the hanger.

She set it back down, and then throwing Young Do a dirty look, quickly disrobed, muttering again.

He distinctly heard the word 'stupid'.

"You know, if you don't want me to look, Rachel, you _could_ just go in the bathroom."

If looks could kill, he'd be worse than dead.

"Why don't _you_ go in the bathroom?"

"Hmmm." He tapped his chin. "I could. But then you'd have to come join me. Like last time."

In the tub. In the shower.

Her face was _flaming_ red now. He was sure he saw steam coming out of her ears.

What did she expect? She'd known him for years. They'd been married for 6 months now.

Young Do couldn't keep his eyes off of her though. Provoking her had abated most of his anger. Watching her in her underwear was helping drain the rest.

Rachel was wearing white lace—his favorite.

She kept looking down at her chest and then the dress. And then back.

Young Do folded his arms behind his head, and watched in amusement, fully relaxed now…especially because he knew it would irk her.

Rachel cursed under her breath again, and strode over to her bag, rifling through for—a strapless bra.

She was going to have to change bras…

Young Do watched with bated breath. Feeling slightly disgusted with himself for being so excited. He wasn't a boy anymore. But he couldn't help it.

Rachel cast him a very sorrowful, very somber glance…and then turned her back to him as she quickly took off her bra, and the sight of her bare back rid him of all his mischief.

He wanted her. Now.

She put the other one on, and faced him.

The grin had disappeared from his face. But she didn't look triumphant. She looked troubled.

He couldn't be bothered to analyze why though—he _was_ thinking: he could have her in his lap in a second. She wasn't wearing her dress yet. And he would make sure not to mess up her hair…he just needed her to come to him…

She mumbled something, and that broke his train of thought, which also had him wondering just how stable her dressing table was…

"What?"

"I _said_, you're going to have to help me with my dress."

All at once he became annoyed again. Sometimes he wondered if she saw him as a man or as a girl-friend.

* * *

He knew more about makeup now than he'd ever cared to know.

A few years ago she'd schooled him on the art of bra-shopping…which might have proved to be _fun_…but it wasn't. Except that he knew what a balconette bra was now.

He knew how excited she would get when she would see a beautiful pair of shoes. She would clutch at his arm, and her eyes would shine. "I would do anything for those shoes." She would exclaim.

Then when he'd suggest what that _anything_ could entail—she'd hit him, and then go buy the shoes anyways.

* * *

Truth be told, he wasn't actually annoyed about the dress request—he didn't mind helping her into (and out of her dresses)—he was annoyed because he'd made it _pretty clear_ what was going through his mind right now…and she remained oblivious.

Or she was just ignoring it.

"Young Do…" She said his name plaintively, and he heard the silent 'please' she didn't add on.

He sighed and rubbed at his eyebrow, but got up nevertheless, to stand beside her.

Without her heels, he towered over her, like a giant…

"Arms up." He said, trying to ignore how nice she smelled or that her skin looked…glittery. How did she manage to look so sparkly all the time?

He also tried to ignore how she looked in white lace.

Rachel obliged quietly, a rare occasion.

He picked up the dress, and smoothly slipped it over her.

He saw why she needed to change her bra—the dress only had one strap running across—leaving her shoulders bare.

Young Do adjusted the dress for her, and finally dropped a kiss on her shoulder, noting and appreciating her shiver.

The dress pooled at her feet—and he knew she needed her heels.

Those goddamn heels that had started it all.

Before she asked, he retrieved then from the bed.

Normally, he would have remained irritated with her for being plain annoying…but she'd almost complained about her mother.

That only happened when she was deeply anxious about something.

Not caring what it would do to his suit, he knelt down in front of her…fully aware of the long slit of her dress.

It was practically to her stomach…

"Young Do-ah," she murmured, sounding close to tears.

"Tch…it's nothing. Just hold on."

Rachel set her hand on his shoulder, massaging it slightly, as he slipped the shoes on each foot.

Young Do looked up at her, and her eyes were glittering…

Rachel bent down slightly, and took his hand; pulling him up as she straightened.

She was a little taller now, and closer to his mouth.

Rachel might have been annoying—but she was pretty. And his. And he was hers.

(And he knew what he'd gotten himself into. She'd been annoying him for _years_ now).

He was going to bend his head to kiss her, but she stepped backward, leading him by the hand, backwards until she hit the bed.

She sat down, and he ended up kneeling in front of her again.

With the way he was situated…between her legs…the slit in her dress was very…_accommodating_…

Rachel smoothed her hand over his hair, softly saying his name, and then leaned forward and kissed him.

Young Do kissed her back, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, the kiss becoming deeper.

Wrinkled suit be damned, he lifted her up—her legs automatically going around his waist— and gently laid her down and slowly leaned over her.

The slit in her dress proved to be _most_ advantageous.

* * *

_Sometime_ later…they were lying down—he had one arm behind his head, the other around her.

She was lying on her side, head pillowed on his shoulder—one (bare) leg thrown over him.

They'd long since taking off their shoes. He'd taken off his suit jacket and tie too.

They hadn't taken off her dress, but he'd had to be careful. "Chiffon won't wrinkle, but it can rip!"

Miraculously, her hair hadn't suffered at all—but his looked like a tornado had wrecked it.

A tornado named Rachel.

She'd completely drained him of all his anger, and curiosity was slowly taking over.

"What happened?"

"Everybody yelled at me. You _all_ yell at me."

She wasn't going to say anything right now then.

They lay there a little while longer, and finally she started to stir.

"I don't want to go to this thing, but this dress is nice, and you look very handsome. So I'll go." She placed a lingering kiss on his lips, before getting up and heading to the bathroom.

Her dress was dragging behind her, which made him wince, but had no other apparent damage…

Rachel was up. So now he _had_ to get up.

He straightened his shirt and pants, and slipped on his shoes. Walking over to her vanity, he tried to fix his hair and tie.

Tried. It was built for _her_, so the mirror neatly cut off his head and shoulders.

He really was turning into a girl…he sat down on the stool in front of her vanity, feeling increasingly like a giant lumbering around…

While Rachel looked like a beautiful princess—he looked…just never mind.

He finally got his hair and tie in order, and noticed her phone chirp.

She'd been reading the news—and there was an alert.

He didn't want to pry, but the ticker showed a headline that caught his eye, "Like Mother, Like Daughter: Scheming RS Heiress Sinks Claws into Zeus Heir"

That explained it. That explained it all.

Young Do was never affected by this stuff, but he knew Rachel fretted over it. And she only let _him _know.

His jaw tight with anger, again, he waited until she came out of the bathroom.

This time she put her heels on.

"Everything good?" She asked, smoothing her dress down.

He walked over to her and twirled her around, "Everything _perfect_."

* * *

She might have been nervous, but only _he_ saw it.

Rachel was good at masking her emotions, and what the world saw as cold and bitchy—he knew what it really was.

He didn't miss the nervous flicker when they saw Kim Tan and Cha Eun Sang. Or when the paparazzi had kept photographing them.

Midway through the event he was tired of it all, so he walked over to her, and excused her from whatever boring people she was talking to.

"You do have claws, because you're my kitty-cat. But you're not scheming, unless it's to get my pants off. So how about we ditch this joint, and go upstairs." He whispered in her ear.

Rachel looked at him wide-eyed, and then smiled softly, and leaned up to kiss him.

"That was good, but I need you to be more…let's just say, we walk by the paparazzi, I dip you down for a princess kiss. And then you meet me upstairs. Only in your heels. You made me drive around for them. Now I want to see you in them. Only them."

Young Do didn't wait for her answer, but instead took her outside in the hall, and indeed did dip her down, and give her a fairy-tale Cinderella worthy kiss.

As she made her way upstairs, he yelled, in full view of everyone, "Only them, kitty-cat! Only them!"

Rachel gave him the finger, but then blew him a kiss, which he caught.

All in front of the paparazzi.

She barely schemed—unless it really was to get his pants off, but she did have her claws in him, deep. And he wouldn't want it any other way.


End file.
